


Contradiction

by YamiXenara



Series: The Spellwound Order [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: 2k Words Praising Obi-Wan, Also Anakin is the Chosen one in a universe without the Force, Alternate Universe - Magic, Anakin Skywalker Eldritch Horror?, Anakin was too well-adjusted in the previous stories, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, M/M, Magic, Overly Eloquent ways of Writing Smut, POV Anakin Skywalker, Porn With Important Plot, Purple Prose, Rituals, So now its time for him to be, Soul Bond, Star Wars but with Magic instead of the Force, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26193379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YamiXenara/pseuds/YamiXenara
Summary: Obi-Wan was a contradiction. The same body that exuded calm serenity and control is the same body that would also arc beneath firm hands. Head thrown back and neck long and bared; mouth parted yet covered with the back of one delicate wrist.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Series: The Spellwound Order [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899223
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

Obi-Wan, Anakin thought, was a man of contradictions. From the outside to the public, he was strong, firm and so very much in control. Even after years of knowing him, Anakin found it difficult to see otherwise; his persona so tightly wound around him it was almost an intrinsic part of his being. Control and duty were, Anakin mused, what drove him in almost everything he did. It was clear in his posture, in the way he spoke; clear, firm, precise. With a movement of his hand, he could command armies – and has commanded armies. His dulcet tones could sharpen into something hard and bordering cruel as he snapped out commands. He wore duty like a cloak, and it shrouded him so, sharpening the lines of what he was and changing it into something he wanted others to see. It took Anakin a long time, too long, to recognize the contradiction. Obi-Wan, for all he presented control, was a man of duality. He wasn’t - Anakin hesitated on the thought – submissive. Not in the ways, he knew intimately; men, women, others beaten down and forced into subjugation, collars around their necks if not literally than in the detonators hidden beneath their skins… Anakin knew submission, the act of baring one’s neck and keeping one’s head down – the act of people who had given up all hope for the snarling twisting blaze that was freedom. Obi-Wan wasn’t submissive in the ways Anakin knew less well either; 16 and flushed with embarrassment, a holopad stashed beneath his bed filled with pictures of acts that caused his pulse to race in simultaneous excitement and dread. Some acts of which he would not even consider, others he squirmed flushed and awkward with wanting at the thought. Obi-Wan wasn’t submissive, but he knew how to surrender – and in that, he was so very graceful. 

Obi-Wan was a contradiction. The same body that exuded calm serenity and control, is the same body that would also arc beneath firm hands. Head thrown back and neck long and bared; mouth parted yet covered with the back of one delicate wrist. Eyes lidded and dark, his pupils black and wanting and almost completely consuming the bluegreygreen of his irises. He was a sight worthy of supplication like this; disheveled copper hair and punch-drunk moans and a constellation of freckles across scarred milky skin. Obi-Wan was the man who looked Anakin in the eyes while Anakin fucked into him – 

_slowly his body pushed into a velvety warmth that clung and burned and stole the breath from his lungs. Regardless of how many times they’ve done this, the first few seconds always threatened to undo him. The head of his cock caught on Obi-Wan’s rim and they both groaned at the feel, at the heat-slick slide as Anakin pressed just a bit further, just a bit more, and the muscle gave. They always pause here, no matter who was in this position (Anakin legs slung over Obi-Wan’s shoulders, fingers pressing so hard into the sheets that he feared they would rip, cock pulsing with each and every breath as Obi-Wan pushed into the most secret part of his being. A choked sob, back arcing as he was breached and Obi-Wan paused, eyes searching Anakin’s face intently, a hint of fear in his eyes and “Go, please keep-“ and he pressed his forehead to Anakin’s collarbone, stomach sliding against his slick aching member, pressing deeper until they were one and) waiting as Obi-Wan adjusted around him and gasped as he began to slide deeper. With the bond Anakin could feel every inch of himself slide in and split him wide open and the heat and warmth and weight of it settled beneath the base of his spine as if he were the one being undone in this way, and he knew that on the third thrust he’d hit that spot deep inside that caused Obi-Wan to tremble and tighten like a vice around him, heartbeat a staccato that Anakin could feel and soft thick ugn and sighs, because Anakin could feel every single thrust against that bundle of nerves and they were both getting closer a continuous feedback loop of more and please and harder and the goldenslick feeling rose molten up his spine and in the base of his skull and groin and he crested, peaked, burnt alive as Obi-Wan followed and brought them both higher and–_

with a burning gaze that whispered _this is because I’m allowing it_ , a contradiction; ironclad control in complete abandon. He was the man who clung to a long-abandoned code of the Order and eschewed attachments to avoid being hurt. He guarded his heart with carefully cultivated detachment and just enough calculated charming to hide the fact that at his very core, he was kind. Obi-Wan was a contradiction because he was so very kind. He was made of it, the kind of warmth that could brighten the darkest of days, that allowed a person to be abandoned and hurt and betrayed but still love fiercely and all consumingly. It was the kindness that allowed for a man to see a young teen, alone and afraid and so very powerful but pushed away by so many, and wish to protect him. Obi-Wan was so very kind, and he showed it through cups of tea and warm sweaters, with the press of a hand against Anakin’s shoulder or cheek or side, with a heaping of praise and a smile so warm it could brighten a room. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi was a contradiction. He was always calm and measured. He never raised his voice unless the situation truly, deeply warranted it ( _or he was desperate and helpless and pleasemoreharder bowing beneath an onslaught of heat and pressure and gagging on the slick wet slide of Anakin’s mouth holding him firmly and the kitten laps of a soft pink tongue swiping and his face flushed and eyes staring up at him beneath curly bangs and – ‘Oh goddess, An-Anakin!’_ ) and even when he did it was never in true rage. Obi-Wan was a contradiction because he drew runes the same way a mathematician writes equations, with careful precision and surgical correctness, but he truly deeply loves the runes Anakin sketches into the margins of flimsy pads – the runes Anakin tried so hard to break the habit of drawing, the instinctual marks that come from within that impress themselves into his very core- often tracing over them with delicate precise fingertips and a look of soft awe in his eyes. 

Rune work for Ritualists is in many ways sacred. Any Ritualist worth their craft will take the runes they’ve pressed into their minds from decades of study and will change them just enough to be theirs. Obi-Wan’s runes were textbook perfect for the first few years of Anakin knowing him. After that they changed. So slowly it was barely noticeable, their shapes became freer, became wilder more willful, more like his own. Just like how Anakin himself started leaving traces on Obi-Wan, Anakin’s wild runework left traces on Obi-Wan’s own runes. It was most noticeable on the battlefield. Ritualists were rarely on the front lines; it took too long to create the necessary runework for complicated spells, and it could all too easily shift from Ritualism to Alchemy. Obi-Wan could write his runes with nothing but air and want alone, and when he couldn’t think - merely react – he raged. Obi-Wan was a contradiction, because for all his calm demeanor, inside he was capable of all consuming anger. His rage could spark infernos that would burn eternally, conjure torrents and storms that could level entire fields. For all that the magics of order delighted and fascinated him, Obi-Wan was fundamentally a being of primordial force. It was knowledge like that which kept Anakin up at night; the realization that Obi-Wan was dangerous, could destroy him, could _unmake_ him.

Obi-Wan was the first to realize that Anakin wasn’t entirely human. It’s not an uncommon thing, there are hundreds of cross-compatible humanoid species, hybrids aren’t exactly uncommon. Anakin was different, wasn’t half anything, and for all that his medical records claimed ‘base level human’ they both knew it wasn’t true. As he got older it was less noticeable; his eyes no longer flashed white-gold and empty, his shadows no longer elongated and twisted and moved on their own, he no longer screamed out a staticky twitching shriek that caused people’s eyes and ears to bleed. Obi-Wan was a contradiction because he told the Council everything, he _was a Councilor_ , but he never told the Council about Anakin’s wrongness-

( _”So beautiful, Anakin… look at you, kriff you’re a sight my dear.” His eyes were warm, his mouth curved into the soft private smile that caused Anakin’s heart to squeeze every time he saw it. He tilted his head and took Anakin in, all of him, with his eyes and his mouth and he wrung him dry and left him shaking and overwhelmed. Anakin felt himself blur, his edges twitch and shift and he remembered the first time it happened – emotionally drained and control shattered – and Obi-Wan’s shocked panic – but not his fear, or disgust, it honestly probably wasn’t the weirdest thing he’s seen Anakin do – and there he is “Darling, come on, come back to me, we’re here. I’m here.” Their fingers intertwine and his lips brush against his own_ ) 

-despite everything, even when he was crying bloody tracks down his cheeks, he held Anakin close and whispered soft reassurances into his hair. He was a contradiction because for all that he loved Anakin, and he did so strongly Tatooine’s twin suns had nothing on the light of his love through their bond, he didn’t believe he was worthy of love in return. Obi-Wan pretended that he didn’t feel anything beyond gentle affection or friendship for so many people. He pushed them away and built walls of steel beneath his placid demeanor. Anakin had to fight to get Obi-Wan to acknowledge there was even the echo of something between them, and he had a literal door into the other man’s mind. So many others had been pushed away due to fear, due to a deep undeserving self-recrimination. Obi-Wan Kenobi believes he doesn’t deserve to be loved, and no matter how much Anakin tries telling him otherwise, Obi-Wan remains firmly defiant in his denial. Obi-Wan’s a contradiction, because for how brave he appears to be, Anakin thinks he might be afraid, and it hurts to think that. Anakin respects him so much, the man has been a part of his life for a decade, yet Obi-Wan refuses to let him in completely. 

( _”Anakin, enough is enough! You have to constantly push things… for all that I lo-for all that I care about you, sometimes I really don’t like you.” His eyes are weary, his mouth a thin line, a passive aura of affective disinterest settle around him like armor. His side of the bond, as it had been for a while, was nearly silent. The knowledge burned. Of course kriffing Obi-Wan figured out how to block it in less than a month. Others took years, some never did, but Obi-Wan had to be perfect at even that. Perfect, unaffected Obi-Wan who always knows best. Bitterness ran through Anakin’s veins, bitterness and rage and hurt so strong he felt like he was choking on it. He gathered it up, felt it coil in his mind in a toxic, heavy miasma, and projected it into his side of their bond. Obi-Wan flinched, visibly greyed, and staggered backwards a step. He looked like he was going to be sick._ ) 

Obi-Wan is a contradiction, because for all that he blocks Anakin out, he wants to let him in and it’s tearing him apart. When he thinks Anakin is asleep, he draws runes of love and protection against his collarbone. He leaves the extra supplies for summoning mix Anakin favors in his drawers and buys the milk tisanes Anakin prefers over tea. He carves out a place for Anakin in his life but refuses to let him fill in its space. Obi-Wan is a contradiction because he knows Anakin loves him enough to kill for him, yet he loves him enough in return to beg him not too. He knows Chancellor Palpatine is his best friend beyond him, and although he dislikes and distrusts him, he doesn’t ask Anakin to stay away. That’s why, regardless of all the times Palpatine’s mentioned (rightfully so) that Obi-Wan was holding him back, Anakin still loves him fiercely. 

Obi-Wan’s a contradiction, but Anakin’s positive that he’d always love him regardless, even though he can’t always understand him. Even when he does something stupid Obi-Wan forgives him, it’s what Obi-Wan _did_. It was an innate part of him, like the shape of his magic and the beauty mark on his cheek. 

( _A sharp inhale of breath fills the cloyingly tense atmosphere of the room. Obi-Wan stood, hair flaming in the dying light streaming through the doorway. “I get why you keep pushing Anakin, even if I don’t agree or fully understand… but don’t you want some room for yourself? Doesn’t your mind ever get too loud with all -“ the motion he made could have meant a million things, Anakin thinks he meant ‘me’. He didn’t truly understand, he didn’t think he ever could. Didn’t Obi-Wan need it the same way he did? How else would he even get what Obi-Wan meant, or recognize how he felt? Obi-Wan had the emotional emoting capabilities of sand! He didn’t even realize just how much he’d missed without it in the past._

_“I’m sorry Mentor, I’ll try to intrude less.” The reply fell flat from his mouth, but he couldn’t summon up any enthusiasm for anything more._

_“Thank you dearest one.”_ )

The rune was ugly compared to the ones Obi-Wan made. A twisted, sharp edged thing that looked like thorned vines wrapping around a throat. No circles, no arcs, just lines harsh and drawn in black wax. Anakin took a step back and gave it a critical once-over. It felt cold. It felt cold when Anakin first dreamt it; its gaunt warped shape wrapped around his mind and refused to let go. It wasn’t the first rune that he’d created this way, a creation of hope and dream and wish. It was however the first to cross the line between Ritualism and Runecraft to Alchemy; that line was sacrifice. 

Obi-Wan was a man of contradiction. Of endless forgiveness. _It was for that reason Anakin knew he’d forgive him for this._

Anakin cut his hand upon the thorns and watched it bleed. Then he closed his eyes and **Willed**.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not an artist, or at least NOT a good one, but occasionally I sketch something up and want to share it- this is one of those sketches. One day... one day I'll be an adequate enough artist to actually art something up but till then...

**Author's Note:**

> Anakin was so well adjusted in the previous stories, he needed his chance to make horrible life decisions a la canon. He may just have overcompensated a bit.
> 
> I am well aware of my failures as a writer - oocness, purple prose, grammar problems, tenses. All the good stuff, that being said I welcome constructive criticism (and if there is one thing I'm proud of it's my smut writing skills for what that's worth)! Hopefully, I'll have more of this soonish and what a story I may have...


End file.
